Call of Duty
by vargs
Summary: AU. Lavi did not know what he was in for when he managed to involve himself with the Black Order. All he knew was that he had been investigating a mafia gang’s illegal smugglings, but it had quickly elevated into something else entirely. Eventual LaviYuu.
1. Prologue

**Call of Duty: Prologue**

A/N: This here is the beginning of an alternate-universe story I have taken several months to plan and think out. It is the greatest plot bunneh I have had yet and I am bursting at the seams with it. Though it is my habit to abandon stories after a while, this story is one that I will really and truly try to continue. Yes, this promises an epic.

Though I have intended this to be a story for the pairing LaviYuu (RK) with a few pairings on the side, I hope that my story will be read not only for the pairing. Please support me and encourage me! Constructive criticism, comments, and flames are all accepted.

Because I do have other commitments, updates will be slow, especially since I am insisting on making all my chapters a certain length. It will be a challenge for me and there will be times when my writing is not up to par or I simply cannot think of how to continue. Please bear with me then!

With this said, please read on and I hope you enjoy Call of Duty.

-O-O-O-

_**Excerpt From the Records of Bookman, 31st yr. III n.m.:**_

There is a troubling, dark potential brewing in the slums of our world. The rising numbers of crime show no sign of coming to a standstill. A shadow is over-taking the world, slowly but surely. What will mankind do to prevent corruption and collapse from repeating itself?

I will now take it upon myself and my young apprentice the task of chronicling these dark times. These records will endure. I can only hope that we may do the same.

---

**_From the Records of Bookman Lavi, 33rd yr. III n.m.:_**

I never thought it would turn out the way it did. From the moment I became involved, I was caught, ensnared, captivated. Things grew from there.

Even now, a year after it happened – a year's worth of time and healing – the scars are still visible. The ruins of the Capital(1) still stand, a mere ghost of the metropolis it had been just a year earlier.

It is difficult to bring myself back to those times. I have not yet mended and the old wounds still pain me. But I have a duty as a Bookman to record history. And I have a duty as a companion to chronicle those influential lives.

I was there. I was among that army and among those who fought. As per my duty to both the Bookman clan and to the world. There was a time when I would have abandoned everyone to preserve myself and live on to continue the Bookman tradition.

'Bookmen do not have hearts.' That is the condition of our trade, our job. We cannot let ourselves become attached and we cannot let ourselves be influenced. Our records must be clean and free of feeling. For that is the purpose of records: to tell and tell in completion. That is all.

Two years ago, I would have believed that the world could exist on just ink and paper. Two years ago, I would have believed that I had failed as a Bookman for letting myself become attached. Two years ago, I would not have been Lavi.

In all my years of training, I have not come across a single Bookman record written in the words of an individual being. Every entry was signed by the words 'Bookman' and then the date of entry. I may be committing taboo once more just by giving myself a name in these documents.

You close-minded men of tradition, obsessed with the ancient Bookman laws, I pity you. You are wise only from the ink characters you have bloated yourselves on. But you do not understand the world, no. You will never understand the world. I pity you.

Take me for what you will. A failure. A Bookman. A human being.

These are the records chronicling a year's time between the 31st yr. and 32nd yr. III n.m. (2) As told by a Bookman called Lavi. A Bookman who possessed a heart.

-O-O-O-

(1) - In this AU, the Capital is a main site of power and trade. More will be elaborated upon in the future.

(2) - For this AU, there is a different way of dating things. '33rd yr. III n.m.' is short-hand for 33rd year of the Third Age, New Millenium. For references, each age spans 45 years and the numbered year only runs from 1 through 45 because of this. 'New Millenium' denotes a special meaning. It is not exactly a form of counting years, but rather referring to a particular era. Think of it as similar significance as if one were to refer to a certain era as "The Golden Age." It is still undecided whether the history of this AU will be elaborated on, but there is a story behind this. 0 yr. I n.m. is the year 2135 a.d. in our terms of dating. When it comes to day-to-day dating, the AU still uses normal 12-month years.


	2. The First Hammerstroke

**Chapter One – The First Hammerstroke**

A/N: Finally, I'm done with the first chapter! It annoys me how long this took. Well, Merry X-mas and Happy Holidays to you all! Enjoy the first real chapter of Call of Duty! Do expect long waits like this one. Also, thank you for the kind and encouraging reviews I received. I'm not sure I replied to all of them, but I did read them all. Thank you so much! Please continue to support me! I'll try to update as fast as I can!

-O-O-O-

**_From the Records of Bookman, 12 December, 31__st__ yr. III n.m. :_**

We have successfully infiltrated both sides and are watching and observing. Now we must wait. If my idiot (1) [_here, a word has been crossed out, but is still vaguely legible. It has been debated whether this was intentionally done.] _apprentice can manage to gather the desired information and record it, then we might yet have a chance of remaining inconspicuous. Providing that my apprentice will not get ideas of his own and render the operation useless…

---

He panted heavily, wincing slightly at the pain in his left leg where a shot had scratched him. He'd suffered worse than this in his line of work, but it was proving a hindrance in his current situation. He leaned his head back against the sturdy wall, closing his single emerald eye for a moment, just a brief moment, before flashing it open again.

It was dark enough that, even for someone possessing good night vision, it was nearly impossible to make out more than the general details of his surroundings. There was only one high window on the far side of the warehouse, leaking a square of the full moon's cool light. But it was much too far away to be of much aid.

As his breathing slowed, Lavi brought a hand up through his flop of flame-red hair turned a dull shade of Indian red in the pitch-black of the warehouse, sighing as he finally took notice of the lack of headband. It had been his favorite, too! It must have come off during the previous scuffle.

Though he knew nothing much would come from it, he took a cursory sweep of the surrounding area anyway. Might as well attempt to complete his work while hiding out here. The large expanse was filled with dark towers of what he knew to be boxes of illegally smuggled products and materials. Lavi couldn't really see down the full length of the warehouse, but from estimation of the building's size from the outside, there had to be positively hundreds, maybe even thousands, of these things stacked one on top of the other. Not to mention there were four other warehouses probably chock-full of the stuff as well.

He allowed himself a short laugh. Of course, it was just his luck that, after several months of trying to get into the boss's confidence in order that he might be granted access to some of the maximum-security storage warehouses secretly owned by the Noah, he found himself in one of them under the most unexpected circumstances. Well, the end justified the means, right? The good thing was that he was here now and if he could complete his report and confirm the information, he could hightail it out of this nest of criminals sooner than expected.

The bad thing was, whatever luck he possessed decided to royally abandon him, because at that exact moment, the reason why Lavi was there in the first place caught up with him. The heavy sliding door of the warehouse flew open with metallic complaint as obscenely bright headlights intruded the dark interior, positively scalding the area with artificial, white light.

'_What the…!' _he thought as the unexpected light effectively blinded him for an instant before gunshots ricocheting off the steel-enforced wall behind him spurred him into diving for cover in the maze of towers.

Landing heavily on the hard, cement floor, the redhead cursed as he accidentally put weight onto his injured leg, for he had forgotten about it in his moment of panic and ended up landing on his left side. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he hurriedly picked himself up and limped farther in when he heard the sound of running footsteps coming his way, accompanied by shouts of discovery.

Even while fleeing for his life, Lavi was ever the observant, dedicated man doing his job. The illegal items were stored in expensive, state-of-the-art, steel shipment compartments, not the cheap material he had originally guessed it to be. He should have expected it, what with the Noah being the single most powerful Mafia corporation in the world. Shipment by sea complete with guarantees of security and protection was nothing for them. '_Stupid, rich bastards.'_

He was snapped away from his thoughts as a bullet missed his head by a fraction, whistling past his ear to hit one of the steel compartments, sending off a small shower of sparks before falling harmlessly to the floor, leaving no mark whatsoever. '_Yep, state-of-the-art alright.'_

It helped that the farther in he went into the maze, the less light his pursuers had to work off of, which was perfectly fine for him, especially when it came to being shot at. One hand curled protectively over his head and neck and the other gripping his bleeding leg wound against the pain, Lavi ducked abruptly into a side route with a shout of alarm as he once again heard the rain of bullets hit the floor where he'd been a second ago. That had been way too close for comfort. _'Perhaps a change of lifestyle should be enacted,' _he thought to himself, wryly, _'One that doesn't involve me endangering my life every second of the day…'_

He couldn't run all day and he knew it. He had to think of something. Anything! He had never been much of a runner though he had known his share of it in his work. With his left leg dragging behind, seemingly intent on becoming a dead-weight, Lavi knew this game of tag would not last very much longer.

It was inevitable. They would catch him. And that was the last thing Lavi wanted to happen.

His single eye taking in as much of his surroundings as possible, the gears in his brain whirring almost audibly as he sought for an escape route, Lavi turned a corner and immediately regretted it.

It was a deadend. He skid on the cement floor, the soles of his boots squealing with the friction as he tried to spin around and reverse his direction. Too late, Lavi could already hear the thundering footsteps behind him.

Backing slowly away as the footsteps came to a scattered halt in the entrance way, Lavi felt moonlight suddenly flood his senses. Looking up, he saw that he was standing in the square of light under the singular window. A crazy idea, but an idea nonetheless, surfaced in his mind.

Casting his gaze hurriedly around, searching, Lavi laughed nervously as a way of distraction.

"Ah, ya found me!" he said lightly, instantly slipping into character, "Sorry, guys, but I can't be goin' 'round gettin' caught. I have somethin' I hafta do, after all."

The realization that the people after him were not just regular police officers, but members of the Special Force unit of law enforcement raced through him for all of a second before his mind pushed it aside for later contemplation.

His gaze alighted on an object and the bottle-green of his eye sparked as the plan burned like wildfire into his being. If he could make this work right, maybe, just maybe he could get out of this alive…

---

"Oof!"

His face was roughly acquainted with the floor as about five Special Force officers in full-body armor tackled him, being anything but gentle with their AK-47 guns and their strong grips. At least they weren't shooting at him anymore. Not that the present situation was any better either. Lavi swore he could feel multiple bruises rising from the beating he was taking from the butts of those guns.

A rough, gloved hand grabbed a hold of his hair and tugged, forcing him to look painfully up at his captor. Feeling his neck cramp, Lavi stared in surprise as he recognized the famously demonic face of the much renowned and much feared Commander-in-Chief of Central himself. To think this operation had been important enough for the commander to be on the frontlines!

Commander Leverrier, leader of the entire police agency on this side of the world, stared down at the captured redhead before speaking,

"Is this the last one?" The question had not been addressed at the Special Forces. It was only then that Lavi noticed the black-cloaked figure standing farther back, hidden in the shadows.

There was no reply.

The Commander's lips curled upward into a mocking imitation of a smile, his accentuated eyebrows, prounounced brushstrokes painted onto his forehead, arching, framing the ruby eyes. He waited patiently for a second longer, before speaking again.

"Though you may be of a sector removed from the police force, I expect you to answer when I ask a question."

The figure turned its head in the dark and the light was abruptly thrown onto its face in sharp contrast. Lavi could only see the sharp line of a jaw, the pale curve of a cheek, and the hard line of the mouth set in a permanent frown. The eyes remained hidden

Leverrier was visibly furious as he ground his teeth, waiting for an answer that was not going to come. Whoever it was in the shadows was purposefully angering the man.

The tension was almost tangible as the two figures continued their battle of silence, each refusing to stand down or give in. It wasn't until Lavi felt a burning sensation in his chest that he realized he had been holding his breath.

Suddenly, the staid police Commander relaxed, clasping his hands behind his back, a pleasant expression (or, what the man thought was a pleasant expression) sliding across his face.

"You have some nerve to be disregarding my orders, officer. You should thank your lucky stars and the position given to you by your superiors that I am dismissing this blatant rudeness. Others are not so lenient as I, wouldn't you agree?" Through the Commander's fake-friendly voice, Lavi could detect the dangerous threat behind the words and it chilled him through as he beheld the red eyes of the demon, boring into the shadowed figure with anything but affinity.

The pale mouth curved into a smirk.

"Tch," came the daring reply.

The edge of Leverrier's mouth twitched as he tried to keep his fury under control.

"… I'll leave the rest in your capable hands, officer. No, forgive my incorrect terminology. _Exorcist_."

With the exception of the snarled last word, they were carefully sugared syllables that left the man's mouth as he spun stiffly around, turning his back on Lavi, passing the dark figure without so much as a glance before finally turning the corner away from sight. With only the sound of the Commander's boots to signify his presence, they all waited until even that, too, evaporated into silence.

The breaths that had been held were abruptly let out only to be drawn swiftly back in as the dark figure within the shadows moved.

"Arrest him," came the short and quiet order. The Special Force officers needed no telling twice and Lavi found his face being pushed unceremoniously to the floor again, his arms being pulled painfully back as he felt the shackles encase his wrists.

"H-hey, be gentl'r, won't ya?" the redhead protested, slipping easily into the drawling, joking tone of his easygoing persona, the one he had constructed for this particular mission. He tried an experimental wriggle. Nope, they had him securely caught and restrained. Man, oh man, he was so dead…

Due to the fact that his face was currently plastered to the floor, he could not see the figure's face as it stepped forward. There was only a glimpse of dark boots and the black material of his clothing that met his eye.

"Any chance ya could consider lettin' me go?" Lavi asked, though he knew the answer already. There was a foreboding silence.

"Shut up." The reply was ice-cold and emotionless, but it served its purpose. Lavi shut up.

Squirming to try and see the man's (it was definitely a male's) face, Lavi only managed to catch a glimpse of what looked like long, black hair, before he was hauled up and the problem was solved for him.

Wincing slightly at the pain in his leg, Lavi looked up and beheld the coldest eyes he had ever seen.

They were a steely blue-gray, slanted and framed with long lashes that brought immediate attention to the Asian characteristics in his face. Lavi had been right about the long, black hair. It was pulled back into a high horsetail in the back, leaving twin strands to hang loosely on either side of his face in contrast with his pale complexion. A strong, yet delicate jawline, mouth set in a confident line, the straight-cut bangs falling past those proud eyes.

'_He'd be popular with the ladies if it weren't for that cold, unapproachable aura…'_ Lavi thought to himself, _'…Unless they actually _like_ that in a guy. And if he doesn't get mistaken for a girl beforehand' _

Really, what was up with the hair and the pretty features? Not that it wasn't a nice combination, but…

With a mental start, Lavi realized this man, no, boy really, was about his age. While it was normal in his own line of work for apprentices to start young, Lavi had never expected the police to take them in so early. Lavi was only eighteen and, assuming that the youth before him was his age, it would mean that he had started training long before.

Times had changed, it seemed. The world was becoming corrupted, slowly submitting more and more to the darkness every day. It was the painful truth and frankly, it was sad. How many more lives would be claimed by the black?

The dark-haired youth was saying something.

"You are under arrest for association with a criminal organization."

It was only then that Lavi noticed the Japanese sword gripped in the other's hand, a dark, lightly ornate thing with a long, black scabbard and an oblong hilt. The grip was wrapped with red cords in a criss-crossing manner, ending at the pommel in a Chinese knot that hung loosely, swaying harmoniously with every slight movement.

Something registered in Lavi's mind, something he recalled the Commander saying before he had stalked off to find easier prey to bully. "… _Exorcist_."

The redhead mentally cursed as realization finally sank in.

This was an agent of the Black Order, a sector of law enforcement almost completely removed from the police, holding tremendous combat power. It was a power to be respected and feared, perhaps even more so than the Special Forces, the Military, and the Police combined. Not much was known about the organization itself, save by the people who knew where to look or were authorized in possessing the information. But it was a universal fact that the Black Order was a formidable force to be reckoned with.

Anything from the perfect tracking of a suspect to a clean and concise assassination, these were the types of missions given to these agents. They completed them perfectly. They _always_ completed them perfectly, with incredible precision and awe-inspiring skill. It was said that they were equipped with special, enhanced weapons far more advanced and effective than any weapon known to the public. Or so the tales went, anyway. Much of it was probably true.

And so they were called 'exorcists,' eliminators of evil, dedicated to finding and destroying that which opposes justice and righteousness.

And one of these was standing right in front of him! Was the execution of this particular movement so important that it required the presence of both the Commander _and_ a Black Order exorcist?

The exorcist raised an eyebrow, but did not say anything. The one-eyed redhead realized why and closed his mouth with an audible snap. Lavi supposed he must have looked extremely stupid, staring with his mouth open.

After another moment of silent glaring, the raven-haired youth spoke again,

"Take him away."

---

As soon as the door to the steel-enforced truck was closed, Lavi let everything out in one big sigh. He was in for it, alright…

Lavi tried to be reasonable. There had only been a tiny percentage of a chance of escape, after all. But the sad thing was, Lavi had actually managed to land himself in that miniscule percentile. Only to be thwarted at the last possible second…

---

…_His eye alighted upon the long metal rod leaning innocently in the corner, as if asking to be used. Keeping one eye on his advancing pursuers, he mentally charted the height, distance to, and width of the window. Then he estimated the length of the metal rod. The large hook at the end could be cut out of the equation if he held it pointing up._

_Theoretically speaking, if he could somehow get to the rod, grab it, change his position so that he would be running straight at the window from a distance of at least five meters, and manage to vault over the sill with the use of the highly-stacked compartments. He'd done it countless times before with his hammer. Though it still wouldn't be quite the same._

_But Lavi was desperate. Desperate enough to try for that extremely low chance that he might get everything to line up, bam!bam!bam!, out the window and to freedom! From his memory, Lavi knew that on the other side of the wall was the dock. With quick physics calculations done mentally, Lavi figured that the trajectory would land him in the harbor, where the water would both keep him from turning into a rabbit-pancake on the pavement and give him an alternate escape route. Assuming, of course, that he even got through the window first._

_Everything sped through his mind, taking all of a split second to process. There was no time. It was now or never. And Lavi did not want to know the consequences of 'never.'_

_With a sudden leap, Lavi reached the metal rod in two long strides, grabbing the pole in the middle and kicking off the wall, knocking down the people who had leaped after him. Twirling the pole until the large hook was positioned at the top, he charged. He needed to get through the mass of police officers in order to get into the correct angle._

_The metal rod stood easily at twice his height and it would have been very heavy if any othe person had held it. But Lavi, used to his top-heavy hammer and long-since adapted to the weight, had no problem using the blunt end as a sort of pike-battering-ram, successfully clearing the way with a yell of triumph. With some difficulty, he spun around, adjusting his hands into the position the redhead had seen atheletes take before pole-vaulting. That was extent of his experience in pole-vaulting. Spectator._

_The Special Forces officers didn't seem to want to stop him. They kept far to the sides, away from where they might be accidently hit by Lavi's metal stick. They did try to shoot, but only cautiously, afraid that their bullets might ricochet off the rod, spinning with centrifugal force._

'No resistance?' _Lavi thought, _'That's no fun. Though it would work out perfectly for me in the end!'

_Sucking in a quick breath, he ran forward, the blunt end of the pole out in front of him, prepared to plant itself into a point in the ground that would send the redhead flying up and over. The cry that issued from his lips was that of a warrior in battle. He was fighting for his freedom, wasn't he?_

_Leaping nimbly up onto the first compartment, he gathered his lost speed, making a run for the second. The end of that compartment would be the vertex point of his flight. So far, nothing had gone wrong…_

_Not even paying attention anymore to the bullets that followed him harmlessly, never hitting their mark, he reached the second compartment. He leaped up onto it, trying to lose as little speed as possible. Strange that no one had tried to stop him yet, he thought to himself. The end of the compartment was in sight and between two ridges on the surface was where the end of the pole would go. _

_Bringing the metal rod forward, he placed it and hoped for the best. Next thing he knew, he was flying, though not exactly on the path he had originally calculated. It was going to be close. Lavi knew he would be a little bit short of the distance. He'd misjudged the flexibility of the vaulting pole. Because it had been built for handling and supporting the weight of heavier objects, it had been more sturdy and less flexible. The extra spring that might have made his aim perfectly distanced was impossible in this case._

_Though he would be a little short, all he had to do was reach for and grab the edge, pull himself through and out! _

'No way,' _the ecstatic redhead thought proudly to himself_, 'I'm actually going to make it through…'

_The grin spread over his features as he realized that freedom was just a few seconds away! The pain in his leg barely even registered anymore, what with all the adrenaline of the moment almost completely dousing the fire. Reaching for the window, he let out a crow of victory, freedom in sight and the threat no longer present…_

_…when something black suddenly swept across his vision. Next thing he knew, he was falling back down to the ground where he had come from, landing with a metallic thud on every compartment he consecutively rolled off of. _

_The moment he touched the floor at ground level, he was pounced on mercilessly…_

---

…Lavi was almost ashamed by the fact that he had been defeated in that last moment. He had not even seen the exorcist coming at him! If only he'd had…

With a huff of annoyance, Lavi leaned his head back against the side of the truck's interior wall with a dejected thunk. All around him, he saw captured mafia members, some in better condition than others, all similarly ensnared. He couldn't care less about them. They were criminals, every last one of them. Not to mention they had never treated him particularly well here when he had been masquerading as a naïve wannabe-member anyway.

The wall behind him began vibrating as the truck started up and began moving, taking them ever forwards to their impending doom. All Lavi could do was sit there and wait as he was delivered straight into the jaws of the beast.

"Aw man, why me…" he groaned pitifully, his face displaying almost comical sorrow and self-pity.

Someone laughed. Lavi looked up to look across the space to meet the eyes of dark-skinned man with wild, dark hair covering the strange forehead scars and veiling the mischievous, gold eyes. His lips were stretched in a lopsided smirk, the white teeth and especially the sharp canines standing out against the dark skin.

"You too, Lavi? Looks like they didn't spare anyone, even a kid like you," the man laughed. Though his posture was laid-back and relaxed, the rest of the people immediately tensed and grew silent as he spoke. The boss was speaking.

The silence dragged on as the mafia leader shifted into a more comfortable position.

"When I find out who ratted us out…" The sentence was left hanging. There was no need to finish it. They'd all seen enough examples to know what would happen to the wretched turncoat when he was found.

The Portuguese man continued to smirk. Finally, he laughed, the sound echoing in the small room. It did nothing to dispel the sense of foreboding.

"What're you guys getting all tense for? Don't believe in your old pal, Tyki, anymore? I'll get you guys outta here, I promise! But bad puppies must be punished, wouldn't you agree? Or else it'll give a bad example to all the other puppies."

For the rest of the journey, there was not a single sound save for the occasional exhale of smoke from Tyki Mikk. Silence hung unbroken in the air. Silent as the grave into which they were heading.

---

They were pushed into a single-file line and linked at the cuffs with chains. Lavi was feeling thoroughly sick with dread now as they were led out the back of the truck and into the heavy, double doors of the city prison. Oh crap, any minute now…

The doors closed behind them and the light of the moon was abruptly cut off, leaving them standing in pure darkness in a long hallway that echoed with their dragging footsteps and dangling chains.

The door at the other end opened to admit them, the light at the end of the tunnel. Lavi screwed his eye shut as he passed the threshold, before tentatively taking a peek at the comparably bright room they were now in, squinting as he got used to light. Only to immediately close his eye again in an attempt to deny the truth.

It took all of his self-control not to jump out of his skin as he confirmed his fears. It was official. Lavi began saying his prayers.

For there, standing demurely in the corner, hands folded into sleeves, puffing on his pipe, was Bookman.

How strange, even comical, that one could be so afraid of this tiny Chinese man with strange eye make-up, a top-knot, and earrings. But then again, not everyone had been exposed to the horrors that Lavi had experienced too many times in his life. Bookman was fully capable of putting him in the hospital for a week. And demanding that Lavi finish his work at the same time. The man was brutal. Brutal. No mercy whatsoever.

Lavi tried to inconspicuously hide behind the man in front in all his 177-cm-glory. It didn't help that he was twice the guy's height.

It was then that Bookman's eyes shifted to meet his.

Lavi froze, the expression of a child caught stealing cookies from the jar displayed on his face. The black-painted eyes narrowed.

Struggling to keep the rising panic under control, Lavi tried not to think about how dead he was going to be. Instead, he focused on maintaining his character and playing his part right up till the end. It might gain him some mercy later on. Not that Bookman had ever given him mercy ever before. But a guy could hope, couldn't he?

With his life flashing before his eyes, Lavi turned his head forward and stared, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other. He passed the old man, ignoring his teacher as best he could and trying not to flinch, sweat beading on his brow under the intensity of the look that was zeroed in on him. As soon as he passed through the opposite doorway, he sighed in relief. Death postponed. For now.

---

"I will ask you again. Which one among you is the leader?"

There was no reply from the mafia crammed in the cell, specially positioned in the middle of the room so that police could surround them from all sides. Tyki was leisurely smoking in the center of the cage, apparently not paying any attention to the interrogator. No one had yet dared to try taking away his smoking privileges after he'd nearly caused one officer to have a nervous breakdown just by staring him down.

The police officer who had asked the question looked back at Leverrier. They'd gone at this for more than half an hour and to no avail. There had been no information, no matter how they threatened them and no matter how they tried to coax it out of them. To the imprisoned men, Tyki Mikk was much more dangerous and threatening than the whole police force combined. None of them was going to speak up anytime soon.

"… Fuck this."

BAM!

The bars of the cage rattled and groaned with the sheer force of the kick, sending the prisoners leaping away from the shivering metal in shock.

Apparently, no one had noticed that the black-cloaked exorcist had tagged along. They did now. The officers and guards had started when the exorcist had moved forward, but at a motion from Leverrier, they calmed. It did not pass anyone's notice that they distinctly moved back a step, giving the youth his room.

Lavi grimaced in his corner of the jail cell. As much as he would love to be anywhere but in a cage with about 30 mafia inmates, including a highly unpredictable sadist of a boss, the redhead knew he had to maintain his persona. There was a chance his character could still be useful. Even so, the fact that the Panda was boring holes into the back of his head from his vantage point in the corner of the room did not help his current situation at all.

The exorcist boy straightened, regarding the prisoners with a cool, superior look, daring them to try something. He was the same raven-haired youth from before. Lavi made a point to never get on the guy's bad side. If he even had a good side and a bad side to begin with. And if he lived through this experience. Lavi shrank even more into his tiny corner feeling thoroughly sorry for himself.

The raven-haired youth fingered the hilt of his sword. "Answer the question. Or you can not. I don't particularly give a damn when I can begin using you as target practice." There was something about the way he said it and the cold, hard steel of his eyes that left no doubt in the hearts of those looking on that he would go through with every last word he spoke.

One of the police officers lifted a hand and opened his mouth as if to intervene, glancing at the Commander for permission. The man was grinning in amusement. Before the officer even had a chance to make a move, quiet chuckling rose from the center of the room, raising hairs on the backs of necks.

Tyki Mikk rose from his comfortable seated position, still laughing through the cigarette, fixing his amber gaze on the dark exorcist. It was a lazy yet decidedly calculating look that never left the man's eyes. Unnerving, unblinking. To the exorcist's credit, he didn't so much as blink, challenging the man right on back.

Rising slowly, never once breaking eye contact, the dark-skinned man took his time advancing towards the bars of the cell, smoke trailing behind in his wake, silvery against his chocolate skin. His subordinates parted like the Red Sea before him, shrinking away from the dangerous glint in their boss' eyes.

Tyki Mikk stopped right in front of the exorcist, his mouth curled into a smirk, eyes still challenging, gaze unbroken, the metal bars the only thing separating the two.

Standing across from each other, the dark man towered over the other. He seemed to be trying to use this height difference to his advantage, looking condescendingly down at the youth with a smug, superior air about him. The raven-haired boy did not take the bait, instead choosing to glare through his bangs up at the man, head lifted high in defiance.

"You called?" the man said, holding his cigarette between two fingers. "You must be one of those elite soldiers. Exorcist, was it? Of the Black Order? Rather catchy."

Leverrier's smile widened.

"Excellent." Turning to an officer, he signalled for him to continue.

The officer nodded, stepping forward. Before he could do anything more than open his mouth, Tyki cleared his throat.

"I have no business with you," he said, addressing the Commander. "Frankly, I find you rather uninteresting. I'd rather not waste my time, sorry." Leverrier looked as if he'd been slapped, beady red eyes wide in disbelief at the insult he'd just been dealt. The dark man grinned at the expression.

"Now then," he said, turning back to the exorcist, who had not moved from his stance, "after asking that I reveal myself so nicely, I suppose I should introduce myself. Tyki Mikk, at your service." He gave a mock bow.

Straightening and giving the black-haired exorcist a look up and down, Tyki mulled silently before calmly stating, "You know…" He paused, taking a drag on his cigarette thoughfully, chewing on the end.

"…You really look like a girl."

Silence.

"…"

Criminals and officers alike stared in horror. He hadn't… he hadn't really just said that, had he? All eyes turned onto the exorcist. The youth hadn't moved a muscle. His eyes were hidden behind his bangs, so there was no telling what kind of expression he had. But a malevolent aura had almost visibly formed around the black-haired boy, radiating evil potential. But Tyki, despite the situation, looked like he was enjoying himself.

The silence stretched uncomfortably on until…

"… I'm…. gonna _kill_ you…"

With a brilliant flash of steel, out came the Japanese sword and forward leaped the police with an alarmed cry while the prisoners leaped for the farthest end of the cage, begging for mercy, as Lavi did the complete opposite and sprang towards the center of the cell, yelling for fear of being trampled to death, while Leverrier's eye twitched and Bookman closed his dark-rimmed eyes and let out a combination smoke-sigh. All in the space of three seconds.

And Tyki Mikk? He just stood there and laughed for all he was worth, even as a lethal blade swung towards him, getting just close enough to nick the skin at his throat before being pulled back by the force of five guards.

"Exorcist-sir!" one bold guard shouted. "Please put away your weapon! We do not allow any maiming of prisoners during the interrogation process without prior permission from superior officers in charge!" Said guard missed having his head split in half by mere millimeters, which was a relief, but the huge hunk of hair that drifted dejectedly to the floor reminded everyone just how close the guy had come to pushing daisies somewhere in the county church's cemetary. The prospect was definitely not charming. Afterwards, the guard would be admitted into the local hospital for trauma and nervous breakdown.

Nothing seemed to be calming the raging, black tornado. Eyes turned a shade of coal-black fury, the black-haired exorcist was a right terror to behold, all his youth and pretty features be damned. He surged forward like an angry panther, the air hissing through his teeth while the guards struggled to keep the boy away from the grinning mafia boss.

"Sir, this is an order! Please put away your sword or we will have to use force to—," In one sweeping motion, all the guards were thrown to the floor. The officers scrambled and tripped over one another, still trying to maintain the sword's distance between prisoner and exorcist.

To their surprise, the youth didn't move in for the attack.

"… Tch. Whatever." Sheathing his sword, he turned abruptly around and headed for the door, plowing through the horde of guards in his way. They said nothing and made way for the raven-haired youth. After _that_ display of potential, they'd decided that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to provoke the kid.

"How rude," came the silky voice that stopped the exorcist in his tracks. "I gave you my name so it should only be fair that you give me yours as well. Where are your manners, boy?"

Lavi saw a gloved hand clench into a tight fist. As a guard shoved a gun barrel at Tyki Mikk in warning, the pony-tailed head swung around to stare down the dark man.

"Kanda. It's Kanda." The murderous intent in his eyes told everything without words. Tyki matched it, eye for eye. The feelings were mutual.

_I will kill you next time we meet_.

---

Lavi's knuckles were white from clinging onto the chairseat in terror. It was nearly incomprehensible how a little, old man half your height could be the single most terrifying thing in the world. To the unfamiliar person, that is.

To Lavi, the apprentice whom had had to live and work under this man for more than a decade, it was as if he were confronting the devil himself.

Giving a huge sigh of relief, he peeked at his fuming master through his firey hair. Thankfully, Bookman seemed to be calming down. And hey, the damage wasn't _too_ bad. Just a few kicks to the head and gut and a few years shaved off of his life from sheer terror, but hey, not bad at all.

Lavi had definitely suffered worse. At least he wasn't being given sentences or something. An eerie childhood recollection of an eight-year-old self writing sentences on seemingly endless rolls of parchment with a watchful Bookman sitting beside him came up in his mind. Lavi hurriedly put that away with mental consolations of _think happy thoughts_ caroling through his mind instead.

The two guards assigned to watch over this special meeting looked like they wanted to laugh their heads off. When Panda wasn't looking, Lavi gave them the finger.

Bookman's tired voice interrupted his thoughts,

"Lavi. Your role is not yet completely useless. Continue to play your part and see what else you can find. Use that brain of yours, my idiot apprentice, and try not to make too much of a mess."

Lavi nodded his head eagerly. Wow, he was getting off pretty easy, wasn't he? Either Panda was in a good mood or the information that Lavi had retrieved had been enough to lessen his punishment. Amazingly enough.

"When you return, tell them you were interrogated. Make sure your character is intact," Bookman continued.

"Yessir!" The goofy grin on the redhead's face made the old man frown.

"… Don't think you're completely forgiven, Lavi. We'll have to see about sentences after this mission is over."

The redhead's face blanched. The guards sniggered to themselves in the corner.

---

Tyki Mikk leaned against the bars of his cage. He'd been put into isolation in his own cell and looked to be stuck in a high-security vault of sorts. Typical. But he supposed he should be a little pleased with himself for having such fame as to be at high-security level.

A lazy eye regarded his surroundings. There was only one, steel-enforced door in the room with a small round window, accessible from both outside and inside by keypad, thumbprint and retina scan. Tyki guessed it also took weight into account, but he couldn't be sure. There were two guards stationed on either side of the door, armed and at attention. Within the room itself were four guards at each of the four corners, changing places clockwise every ten minutes. Tyki had no idea why they had to go to such pains.

He himself was in a cage at the center, much like the one they had been contained in during the interrogation.

Reaching into his coat, he drew out a cigarette from the pack he had stashed in an inside pocket earlier and put it to his mouth. The amber eyes glinted in anticipation.

_'Game start.'_

---

Kanda closed the door, leaving the room in darkness. As his eyes grew accustomed to the lighting, he made for the bed, sinking down onto it. Damn it, he was tired. But sleeping was out of the question. Though his body was tired, Kanda's thoughts were racing. There was no way he'd be sleeping anytime soon.

Giving a growl of annoyance, he propped his katana up against the wall beside him and drew his legs up off the floor. He leaned his head back, cursing softly when his horsetail dug into the back of his head. Closing his eyes, he forced his thoughts to slow as his breathing evened out. Meditation was always a successful method of calming and disciplining himself.

Despite himself, his eyes flashed open at the thought of that dark-skinned, gold-eyed man. Just thinking about the criminal made his blood boil and his teeth grind. If anything, the single, sure-fire way to get Kanda to have the greatest grudge against you was to insult his pride. The dark mafia boss had done just that.

Sighing quietly, the black-haired youth closed his eyes again, concentrating on his breathing. No sense in getting too riled up over some idiot prisoner. Chances were, the man would be executed within the month. Illegal dealings and smugglings could get you the capital punishment these days. With all kinds of dangerous materials and weapons being developed, sold, and used by the underworld organizations, stakes had been running high for the past fifty years. The government had to retaliate somehow.

Kanda had to admit though, killing off dealers wasn't a very systematic way of solving the problem. The weapons were still developed and were still used. Killing the distributors did nothing against the production. Corrupted men and their desire for power and so-called justice by way of violence. Despicable. Of course, Kanda wasn't one to talk. He killed for a living.

Suddenly, a blaring red siren cut through the atmosphere. Blue eyes immediately flashed open as gloved hands reached for the sword beside him. Back on duty again. Really, these police officers couldn't do anything properly. Tch, how annoying.

But the voice that crackled into focus over the speaker made Kanda freeze. The siren hardly registered in his mind anymore as his ears strained towards the garbled words of the speaker.

A hand tightened its grip on the sword.

_"Good evening, gentlemen. I would like to propose a little game to settle our differences…"_

The smirk that tugged at his lips finally won over. Taking to the floor in one movement and pulling open the door, Kanda left with only a quiet swish of black cloth.

"I accept your challenge, Tyki Mikk."

-O-O-O-

(1) - Because doesn't include strikeout, I used underline to replace it.

_To Be Continued. Happy Holidays._


End file.
